


Glitter in the Air

by liketolaugh



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Allen dropping his mask, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, it's not pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-06-08 12:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Link wakes up, Allen is drunk. It turns out to be a revealing experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As missions went, the Maienfeld mission was a royal, unmitigated disaster.

They had been told it had a population that was 28% akuma - unusually high, but nothing so terrible as to warrant more exorcists than Allen himself. The Innocence was an illusionary one believed to be somewhere in the water supply. Link and Allen had gone together on the meant to be two-day mission, paired with two finders who were familiar with the area.

Now both of them were stumbling into an empty, mostly-intact inn, almost incoherent with exhaustion and covered in dust, the only two left alive in the entire town. Link's hand was up to clutch at Allen's shoulder, whether to guide him or to support himself he wasn't really sure, and Allen's was fisted in Link's shirt for probably the same reasons.

Without a word, they found a bedroom on the first floor - empty of both people and dust - and let go of each other to collapse into the large bed. Link's head hadn't even hit the pillow before he was fast asleep.

Link wasn't sure what woke him up, or how much later it was, but _something_ started to pull him out of unconsciousness, and his eyelids fluttered open, gazing dazedly into the darkness. It was a few moments before he realized that Allen was no longer lying beside him, and with a groan, he pushed himself up, squinting and waiting for the darkness to resolve itself into shapes.

Allen's hair, being so light in color, was one of the first things to make itself known. He was sitting, hunched over, Link realized, at the desk he vaguely recalled having been present when they entered.

"Allen?" he rasped at last, reaching up to rub at his face tiredly.

Allen started, but didn't turn around; on the contrary, he hunched over further.

"Go back to sleep," Allen muttered, low and rough. "You need it."

Link's head started to clear, though the fog of exhaustion didn't quite go away. "You need it as much as I do," he countered, twisting to plant his feet on the ground. "Come back to bed."

Allen shook his head, still making no move to so much as adjust his position. "I'll come later," he promised.

Link squinted a little more, and a deep frown appeared on his face as he made out the faint gleam of a bottle, Allen's ungloved right hand curled around the neck. "Are you drinking?" he asked, worry starting to make itself known.

Allen didn't reply.

Link pushed himself up, stumbling a little as his tiredness manifested itself in the form of clumsy feet, and approached Allen, starting to reach for his shoulder. "I thought you didn't drink?" he asked more than said, leaning over slightly, one hand planted on the desk and the other hovering over Allen's shoulder gingerly.

Allen licked his lips, not raising his head. "You were s'pposed to be asleep," he mumbled.

To hell with it, Link decided, and moved his hand from Allen's shoulder to his chin, tilting it up. Allen let him, grey eyes dull and dark, a furrow of frustration in his brow and a faint scowl on his face.

"Is this about earlier?" Link asked, keeping his voice quiet. "It wasn't your fault."

Allen scowled harder and jerked his head away, glaring at the wall instead. "What?" he asked harshly, startling Link. "It wasn't my fault that I was too goddamn _stupid_ to think that _maybe_ the Innocence could fool my eye too? Give me a fucking break."

Link froze briefly, startled, mind struggling to whirl through the remnants of sleep.

Allen's words were slightly slurred; it was clear he'd been drinking for a while. Instead of more relaxed, though, he was as tense as Link had ever seen him, and far, far angrier; Link understood better now why Allen didn't normally drink. This was exactly the sort of behavior that Allen hated, and would never tolerate in himself.

Link had known, when the Innocence's illusion had first fallen, that Allen would take this badly, very badly. The idea that akuma had been raging around unchecked, while they hunted obliviously for the Innocence… Even Link himself was more than unsettled, would probably think of this during dark nights for years to come - if he lived that long, at least.

"Tell that to _them,"_ Allen continued, jerking his head out the window, which overlooked a street full of dust piles and abandoned clothing. "To all the people that fucking _died_ because I was too stupid, too weak- because I _wasn't fucking good enough."_

He squeezed, and then seemed to remember the bottle in his hand, because he let his eyes fall back onto it, closed them, and swung it back for a huge gulp that barely made him wince. When he set it down, it thunked loudly against the wooden desk, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, face twitching slightly as if in physical pain.

"That's enough," Link said firmly, thankful when his voice didn't shake. Allen was never open with his emotions, but the alcohol seemed to have swept all of that secrecy away, and now his anguish was out for all the world to see. "None of it was your fault. You couldn't have seen it coming - neither of us could have. _It was not your fault."_

He reached for the bottle with the aim of taking it away from Allen, but as soon as his hand brushed the younger male's, Allen jerked away, rising up out of his seat altogether and sending the chair crashing to the ground. His momentum sent the bottle flying out of his too-slack grip and it, too, crashed against the ground, shattering and sending sparkling bits of glass flying, while a puddle of alcohol splashed out from where the bottle had struck.

"Don't _lie_ to me!" Allen snarled. Link could see the gleam of furious tears now, and it didn't take much to make Allen cry, really, but this somehow hurt more than usual, with every nuance of Allen's emotions bared. "It _is,_ it _is_ my fault! I should have looked for the akuma first! I should have caught on when people started vanishing in the street! I should've thought of it when we found out it was an illusionary Innocence! And because I didn't, _people fucking died!"_

"Allen," Link said sternly, straightening up and crossing his arms, only the slightly convulsive clutch of his hand at his arm betraying his growing worry. "That's _enough._ People died, yes, that happens, and yes, we made mistakes. It isn't okay, it never will be, but it isn't the end, and there's nothing either of us can do about it."

"Shut up!" Allen screamed, and he spun around and punched the wall with his left fist; it went straight through, sending splinters flying. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Link opened his mouth to continue, frustration beginning to rise in him as well, but Allen wasn't done.

"I fucked up, I always fucking fuck up, it _never fucking stops! This_ is why I deserve everything I get, _this_ is why I deserve to get hurt, because I always-" He stopped short and let out a frustrated scream, withdrew his hand, and spun around again. The quick motion made him sway and stumble, but he caught himself and fixed his glare on Link, the tears trickling down his cheeks now. "Why the _fuck_ don't you hate me?"

It took Link a moment to get control of himself again, to force himself to breathe. His anger was forgotten in the wave of ice cold fear.

"I couldn't," he said, and he meant it. He would have said more, but he was lost for words - he felt off-balance, and he hated it. This wasn't like Allen, and in all honesty, it was almost frightening. Link wanted, _needed,_ to do something about it, but comforting people was not part of his skill set. He'd never regretted that more.

 _"Why?"_ Allen demanded, and lashed out again, this time at the bookcase beside him; it cracked under the force of his right fist, and his knuckles started to bleed. "I'm selfish! I'm needy! I lie and I cheat and I _can't fucking do anything right!"_ He backhanded a vase and it smashed, leaving deep cuts in his hand and forearm.

Link did the only thing he could think to do; he lunged forward and pinned Allen against the wall, his hands over Allen's wrists. With his left hand, he could feel hot blood soaking Allen's sleeve, and Allen made a soft, pained noise that made Link's heart clench, but he didn't dare let go.

"Stop that!" Link snapped, voice cracking. "Stop _hurting_ yourself!"

Allen let out a high-pitched, furious sound and twisted, one knee coming up to hit Link's stomach. Link grunted in pain and let go involuntarily, stumbling back, and Allen slid down the wall, hands sliding up to clutch at his hair, face screwed up in anger and pain, still streaked with tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," Allen choked out, back shoved against the wall, legs haphazard beneath him. "Fuck. _Fuck._ I hate this, I'm sorry, I always fucking do this, just…" He swallowed, and his next sound came out as a breathless sob. _"Fuck,_ just kill me. Please. I can't take this anymore. I can't do this. Just _make it fucking stop."_

Link stared at him, one hand pressed to his stomach, panting slightly, watching as Allen shook, and let another sob out, and then another, and another, until he was crying, shaking on the ground, anger melted away into anguish, broken glass scattered around him and alcohol soaking into his pants.

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this," Allen chanted through his sobs, not looking up. "I deserve to die. I deserve it."

Link was exhausted. He was scared, worried, he was confused, and he hated this, too, everything about it. He could see the blood soaking into Allen's hair and trailing down his sleeve.

Carefully, he picked his way across the broken glass and then knelt beside Allen, avoiding the worst of the glass. Then he leaned forward and hugged Allen tightly, letting the tears that had been building up in his eyes run freely.

"Don't say that," Link rasped, chest tight and arms tighter, unabashedly desperate. "Don't you ever say that." His fingers curled, and he took a deep breath, while Allen stilled in his arms, breath hitching. "You mean so much to me. Don't do this."

Allen shook, and then he shifted around enough to reach back to Link, clinging to him just as tight, crying again. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm so _fucking_ sorry."

"You have a dirty mouth," Link mumbled without thinking, and heard Allen choke out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. It broke some of the tension and Link managed a slightly painful smile of his own, though neither of them moved.

They sat together like that for a fair few minutes - Link wasn't sure exactly how long. Then, finally, he pulled away. He could feel Allen clinging to him, silently begging him not to leave, but ignored it in favor of getting his legs under him.

Then he held a hand out to Allen, who was staring at him with one of the most vulnerable looks Link had ever seen from him.

"Come on, Allen," Link said quietly. "Let's get you cleaned up."

He could see Allen staring at him confusedly, and completely understood; much of him was screaming at him to demand answers, to know how long Allen had felt this way, how much he really hid - but now was not the time. Allen needed to sleep, and he needed to sober up.

And _then,_ they would talk about this.

Finally, Allen took his hand, and Link hauled him up. Allen stumbled when he was upright and might have fallen down again had Link not caught him, and even then, Allen leaned heavily on Link, one hand fisted in his shirt again.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" Link asked, worried again.

Silently, eyes closed and a slightly nauseated expression now on his face, Allen shook his head.

"Head rush," Link murmured, studying him. "Too much to drink on an empty stomach, and you're exhausted. We're going to get your arm cleaned up, that's non-negotiable. Is sleep or food a higher priority right now?"

All the fight seemed to have gone out of Allen; tears still gleamed on his cheeks, but easily half his weight was on Link, and even so, he was unsteady on his feet. "Sleep," Allen muttered. And then, ignoring all evidence of this being a terrible idea, "Go to bed. I can take care of it myself."

Link 'hm'ed in vague acknowledgement, and started to guide Allen out.

"I'm sorry," Allen said again. "You were supposed to be asleep. You weren't supposed to see me like this. Fuck. _Fuck._ You didn't need to see this."

Link 'hm'ed again, soft. "I'm glad I did," he murmured. When Allen tensed, he elaborated, "I'm not glad it happened, but if it _must_ happen, I'm glad I found out."

"So you could report it," Allen finished bitterly.

Link flinched minutely, not expecting that. He'd thought they'd passed that point a long time ago. "So I could help you through it," he corrected, trying to keep the tension out of his voice and not entirely succeeding.

Allen remained tense for a moment longer, a faint scowl on his face, before he relaxed slightly. "Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry."

Allen's slurring was getting worse, Link noted, and wondered if the alcohol was hitting him harder now, or if it was simple exhaustion. In the end, he supposed it didn't matter.

They found the bathroom quicker than Link had expected, and Link sat Allen down on a stool in front of the counter. He picked up a dusty washcloth from the counter, rinsed it off, and then, taking Allen's arm gently and pulling it under the running water, started to clean the glitter away.

Allen hissed, finally opening his eyes again to scowl at his arm. "Fuck," he muttered again. Most likely referring to the pain this time, Link decided ruefully.

Link let a few minutes pass in silence, struggling to find something to say. Allen had often needed reassurance before, but normally a simple 'I love you' was enough, and Link felt that, this time, that would be grossly inadequate.

"I don't know why you feel this way," Link said at last, keeping his voice even, almost professional. He saw Allen's head dip, hiding his eyes, but didn't look up from Allen's wounds or falter in his motions. "And I hate that you do."

Allen twitched, and Link could almost feel his anger rising again. Link continued before he could say anything, and Allen stilled again.

"I wish that you could see yourself the way I see you." Link set the bloody washcloth aside, shut off the water, and turned Allen's hand over so the palm was facing down, and he was holding onto it gently with both hands. At the same time, he settled his gaze on Allen's still-bowed head. "You're one of the kindest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You always want the best for everyone, and you take every failure personally in a way I haven't been able to do in a long time. You're very thoughtful. You have the most wonderful laugh."

He lifted Allen's hand and pressed a fleeting kiss to the knuckles, and when he let it down again, both of them were blushing. Still, Link did not look away as he finished,

"Given the chance, there is no one I'd rather spend my life with."

Allen stared at him, wearing the same look of vulnerability that Allen always did on the few occasions Link spoke sincerely like this, with a mixture of hope and fear added in that Link had never seen before, an expression that made his heart clench.

Then Allen turned his head away sharply, disconcertion painted across his face, cheeks still faintly pink.

"We won't live that long," Allen pointed out, voice strained and rough.

"I know," Link agreed, and stood up, eyes soft and solemn. "I can tear up some of the blanket for use as bandages. Come on. You need sleep."

Allen hummed halfheartedly and reluctantly followed. Again, he stumbled, and again, Link caught him, guiding him on silently.

Back in the bedroom, Link did as he'd said and tore part of the blanket into strips, wrapping up the cuts on Allen's arm meticulously while Allen watched, eyes dull and growing more exhausted by the minute. By the time Link was done, his eyelids were fluttering, and his chin would dip down every few seconds before jerking back up as he jolted awake.

Link helped him under the covers, and Allen half-curled up, watching him as he climbed in beside him. For another few moments, both of them were silent, watching each other; Link's gaze was pensive and solemn, and Allen's was dull and exhausted, echoes of distress still clinging to him.

Finally, though, Allen closed his eyes and relaxed.

"I love you," he murmured.

Link sighed, reached forward, and pulled him close. Allen allowed it, tipping his head forward - tucked under Link's, the way he preferred it.

"I love you too," Link replied quietly. _Even if I don't understand you as much as I'd like._

"Talk about this in the morning?" Allen asked suspiciously, but sleep was slurring his voice even worse than usual, and he was clearly close to unconsciousness already.

"After we get some food in you," Link answered. "You'll need it."

Allen 'hm'ed in acknowledgement and did not speak again. After a few minutes, Link felt his breathing even out, and at last allowed himself to close his eyes.

He was grateful that he did not dream that night.


	2. Chapter 2

_"I fucked up, I always fucking fuck up!"_

_"Why the fuck don't you hate me?"_

_"I'm selfish! I'm needy!"_

_"Just make it fucking stop."_

_"I deserve this, I deserve to die."_

**_"Why the fuck don't you hate me?"_ **

Link couldn't sleep. He couldn't take his eyes off Allen, quietly (deeply) sleeping beside him, hearing his words echo in his mind, over and over. And he couldn't stop thinking about them.

Allen had sounded so- desperate. Miserable. And the _self-hatred_ \- Link was terrified, genuinely terrified, that Allen was going to try to kill himself, that Link would one day wake up to find Allen in a pool of his own blood, spilled by his own hand instead of that of the things they fought.

Was this why Allen was so reckless, so careless with his own life? Was this why he threw himself in the way of attacks, why he insisted on fighting no matter his injuries, why he-

Allen stirred, and Link stiffened slightly, glancing down at the bare expanse of Allen's scarred back and the back of his head.

"Why does my head hurt?" Allen mumbled. Link felt his forehead press against his shoulder for a moment before the exorcist pushed himself back, slowly sitting up, silver eyes dull and a little glazed, with a small furrow of pain in his brow. His hand reached up, rubbing at his forehead with a grimace.

Link propped himself up on one elbow, eying Allen warily. How much did he remember? And for that matter, how would he react?

"Are you okay?" Link asked at last, soft and ginger.

Even through his likely hangover, Allen managed a small smile. Normally, this would be a comfort to Link, that Allen felt well enough to at least feign actual wellness - but now he couldn't stop wondering how much that smile hid.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Allen assured him, still quiet. He met Link's eyes, and his smile faded into visible concern. "Are _you_ okay? You look tired."

Link _felt_ tired. Exhausted. He hadn't gotten any sleep that night, and after the strain of the previous day, that was probably a recipe for collapse.

Any words he might have said stuck in his throat, and he stared at Allen, whose concern grew by the moment. Allen started to reach forward.

"You should go back to sleep, Link. What happened last night? I can't-"

Allen froze. Link swallowed.

"Oh," Allen whispered. He withdrew his hand sharply, snapping it back against himself like he'd been burned. Suddenly he looked pale, his eyes wide. "Oh, God. Did I really-"

Link nodded silently. No words occurred to him; his brain was slow, and instead of anything productive, he found himself fixating on the slight tremble of Allen's hands, the way his pitch-black fist stood out against his pale skin where it was drawn tight against his chest, and then the way his face started to tighten, nothing but a modicum of self-control keeping him from collapsing into tears.

"I'm so sorry," Allen choked out, looking horrified with himself. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had to see that. I won't do it again, I promise. I shouldn't have done that. You don't need to deal with that, I'm so sorry-"

Link just watched him as he rambled, tears welling up in the white-haired boy's eyes, and eventually, Allen stuttered to a halt, looking miserable and ashamed, panting slightly.

When Allen took a deep breath, apparently to continue, Link did the first thing that occurred to him. He reached forward and covered his mouth, and Allen froze again. Link hesitated for a moment, and then, finally, spoke, voice quiet and rough.

"Do you… always feel that way?"

Allen's expression changed from guilt-ridden to plain, open confusion. Link's voice shook slightly as he continued,

"Do you hate yourself that _much?"_ His voice broke slightly, confusion and worry and exhaustion coming together to shatter his carefully maintained control. _"Why?"_

Allen looked stricken, and Link finally remembered that Allen couldn't answer him if his hand was over his mouth, so he removed it, setting it flat on the bed between them, his eyes focused on Allen's. And if they were a little desperate - that was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Allen was trembling now, which made two of them. He opened his mouth, started to say something, and closed it. He opened it again, but nothing came out but a breathy, distressed sound, half gasp and half whimper, and then he bit his lip.

Link closed his eyes against the sight and let out a long, shaky breath. He felt lost - lost and confused and he didn't know what to do. There was a lot that needed to be said, and he didn't know what any of it was.

Then he felt a hand on his cheek and opened them again, and found that some of Allen's shame had melted away into concern. Allen licked his lips, and then spoke, voice soft and strained.

"You look exhausted. You really need to sleep." Link started to speak, a furrow of frustration appearing in his brow, but Allen added quickly, "I'm not trying to get out of this, I promise. But please, Link. You look terrible." A weak smile pulled at one corner of Allen's mouth. "You're always telling me to take better care of myself - shouldn't you lead by example?"

At any other time, that might have worked, but at the moment, Link couldn't even dream of sleeping. Not when he was still wondering if Allen would be there when he woke up.

It was likely irrational. There had been nothing to prompt this (the state of the town around them tugged at Link's conscience - he ignored it with the ease of long practice) and so Allen had probably felt this way for some time, and had never acted on it.

Link didn't give a shit.

"This is more important," Link told him resolutely.

Allen's worry visibly grew, crowding out his own shame to a place where Link couldn't see it. "Please sleep," he pleaded. "You look like you're going to faint at any moment. I'll wait right here, okay? I promise. _Please."_

A frown slashed across Link's face, eyes intent on Allen, with an almost professional focus, and he started to stand - height was a psychological advantage, he recalled-

The world swayed and spun around him and he nearly collapsed until Allen caught him, lowering him back down. His head was still spinning when Allen started to talk, quiet and quick and frantic.

"No, not always, but sometimes, _please_ don't be upset. It's no one's fault but mine, okay? I've never been able to do anything right, I always mess things up - I'm a parasite. I always have been."

Link stared at him dizzily, and then pushed himself up, forcing himself to focus on Allen's words. "Who told you that?" he asked hoarsely.

Allen stared at him blankly for a moment, confusion clear on his face, as if it was obvious, as if there was no reason to assume he had been _told._ Link crushed a flinch before he could express it.

Allen - who was an exorcist, who could and would do things no one else was capable of, who was _kind_ and _good_ \- was the last person who should feel this way about himself.

"I killed Mana," Allen told him at last, voice hoarse, soft with shame and guilt. "I didn't keep my promise to Lala and Guzol, and they died apart. I didn't fight hard enough against the Level Four, I took too long getting into the fight, and it killed so many people." With each recollection, his voice dropped further, and Allen curled up into a withering ball of shame. "I was too late to save Suman, and Tyki's Teez ate him from the inside out. I was stupid, and _everyone here_ died. They _trusted_ me-" His voice cracked. "-and I failed them."

Link remembered reading all of those mission reports, in preparation for meeting Allen - and he remembered some of them himself, with, in many cases, sickening clarity.

Even before he knew Allen, before he thought of him as anything more than a suspect - he had never considered a single one of those things Allen's fault.

"I'm stupid and I'm useless and I'm weak," Allen whispered, face now hidden in his knees, shaking. "I can't do anything and _that's_ why I feel this way, Link, because I know I'm worthless and I'm too stubborn to die anyway. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Link wondered dazedly, because he could hardly force himself to process anything else, if that put his fears of suicide to rest.

"Allen," he croaked, and Allen looked up, face splotchy and streaked with tears.

Link didn't know what to say - had never been faced with someone so convinced of their own worthlessness, let alone someone he cared about so much. He could hardly breathe, his eyes fixed on Allen, who stared up at him, looking like he was falling and was completely unwilling to do anything about it.

Link reached out and clasped his hand around Allen's arm - tighter than he should have, maybe, but Allen barely reacted, even to the feeling of skin on skin that he normally found so comforting.

Finally, he settled on an approach, and closed his eyes, shuddering once, before he opened them again, expression caught between intent and overwhelmed, and spoke.

"None of that was your fault. No, listen," he added as Allen opened his mouth. He tried to force his voice to become as crisp and professional as he could manage, but it still strained and cracked with exhaustion and emotion. "None of that was your fault. Mana attacked you, you would have died. The level two was too strong for you when you were in Mater, and you acted as soon as you could. You were too injured to stand on your own when you were facing the Level Four, and you still fought it. You'd never encountered a Fallen One before Suman, and you did your best. Allen - you did more than anyone else could have dreamed of. Everyone fails." Link squeezed Allen's arm, willing him to understand this. "When your goal is to save the world, things get left behind."

Link wished he had a better fallback than telling Allen what he himself had once been told.

"I'm not good enough," Allen whispered.

"No one is," Link replied immediately, gaze unwavering.

Allen exhaled heavily, and the tears started up again, flowing down his cheeks as he shook silently. Link himself was too close to following; there was a weight on his chest that rose in his throat and choked him, and his eyes burned for more reasons than he cared to count.

_God, this is a mess. We're a mess._

Link shut his eyes, and felt tears start to roll down his cheeks, hot and humiliating and silent.

In the next moment, Allen apparently noticed, because arms wrapped around Link, and he felt Allen's bare chest press to his clothed one, warm and reassuring, or it would have been if it hadn't been moving too fast - breathing shallow and quick.

"I'm sorry," Allen whispered yet again, choked and strained. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't cry. Please don't cry."

He might have continued, but then he was sobbing, tears soaking into Link's hair, his face turned into the side of Link's head. And Link always hated it when Allen cried, but it was _so much worse_ when he let himself go.

Something snapped, and then Link was crying too, in a way he hadn't for... as long as he could remember. Still quiet, still restrained, but messy and audible nonetheless, suddenly holding onto Allen almost as tight as Allen was holding onto him.

He couldn't handle this. He had no idea what he was doing. And he was _so tired._

Link didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging together as the world spiralled around them, but finally, he gathered himself enough to whisper,

 _"Swear to me_ that you won't hurt yourself." (That shouldn't mean that much to him; it dragged Link's spirits down further, this realization that he couldn't stand to see Allen hurt, but he couldn't help it. Link was weak, too.)

"I promise," Allen said instantly, grip not loosening in the least. "I'm sorry, I promise, I promise."

Nothing was solved, not really. But that satisfied Link enough for him to finally let himself pass out, going limp against Allen, who caught him easily, and the last thing Link felt was Allen lowering him back to the bed and curling against him again.

"I promise not to make you cry again," Allen whispered, and Link fell asleep, face plastered with tears and breathing only just evening out.

 _I won't let you feel this way,_ he swore silently.

Allen was worth so much more than this.


End file.
